Wash the horse

Text/Passerby vs Returnee

I washed horses, and that was when I was a kid.

"The southerners ride boats, and the northerners ride horses", if it was a thousand years ago, I would have ridden a fierce horse, drawn a long bow like a full moon, and shot in the hunting west wind to gain fame through the ages. My grandfather pulled me back from fantasy to reality, threw my villain book to my grandmother, and let Huo Quzhi and Yue Wumu exert their residual heat in the flames. And I, got off my bench and warhorse, obediently disarmed and surrendered, became a "prisoner of war", picked up a bucket brush, and went to wash the horse.

In wartime, horses are good comrades-in-arms, living and dying together, and in peacetime, horses are good helpers, ploughing and ploughing, and it is also related to vitality. When I washed the horse, I was resentful. As the eldest son and eldest grandson, my grandfather never washed my face, but asked me to wash the horse with him.

I was only five or six years old, and I wasn't as tall as a horse's legs, and I couldn't beat it, so I confessed. It was a jujube red horse, fat and strong, and very powerful. I rattled the bucket with a brush in protest, and the horse's head was raised twice, and the bowl-sized hooves stomped so that the stables shook slightly, and the wings of the nose fluttered and "thud" with a "thud" sound.

Grandpa slapped me, and I was honest. He went over and stroked the horse twice, and the horse was quiet. Grandpa took a small jagged rake to comb the horse's hair, but the horse looked at me with eyes the size of a brass bell, and I was not afraid of it, so that I did not see it like a beast! I turned my head to look at the manger, and there were some beans in the hay, and my heart was sour, and I did not know that it was the taste of jealousy.

"Master, have you ever fought?"

"What?"

"Did you ride a horse in our house and beat a devil?"

The picture of riding a horse to kill the enemy is the most exciting, and wanting to be a People's Liberation Army to protect the family and defend the country is still the ideal of a boy. At that time, my grandfather just laughed, lifted me up, and put me on horseback, and I only felt a little dizzy from above, and where was the majesty of riding on the stool in the past, crawling on the horse's back, shivering. The red horse raised his head again, turned his head and looked at me with one eye, and made a "thud" sound between his mouth and nose, and I felt even smaller.

I ran out crying, feeling bullied by a horse. I don't ride horses anymore until I grow up.

Although he doesn't ride a horse anymore, he still has the ideal of being a hero. There is a jujube tree in the middle of the yard, and there is a lusk lying at the root of the tree, which has been sitting for a long time, very smooth, and riding on it in open crotch pants, most of the time it is very comfortable.

Riding on this stone horse, beating its ass with a stick, galloping across the field in his mind. It didn't move, the mulberries in the southeast of the yard were ripe, "clucking", I jumped and reaped the purple spoils all over the ground, and my mouth was full of black and purple, in exchange for laughter in the courtyard, and the pomegranates in the west of the yard were ripe, "Phew...... ......", I climbed up the low wall and pulled the red fireball down, and the fireball cracked open my mouth, and I laughed open.

The courtyard is my kingdom, and I do whatever I want. But there were things that could not be done, and on a summer afternoon, I rode on my stumbling horse, and a sudden burst of ironing hit my bare ass through the gap in my open crotch pants, and it was useless to jump up, and the sun had successfully educated me.

I think it must have been my grandfather who taught me that we call the sun grandpa (Yaya) in this place, and I once rode a "stone horse" to shoot the sun with a wooden bow, which may have offended it.

The ease of my relationship with that horse was when my aunt got married. There is a custom in our local area that the day after the marriage of a daughter, the mother's family will send someone to visit the daughter's house.

That day, it really made my eyes shine. My grandfather is ingenious and famous, and the jujube red horse with three or five clusters of red tassels makes him look more and more powerful. After the carriage was installed with a beautiful and generous carport, it subverted my impression, it turned out that the carriage can not only pull dung, but also sit people.

I don't remember exactly what season it was, but I remember walking for quite a long time in the rocking of the carriage. I still thought that if I let my grandmother walk with her little wrapped feet, I was afraid that I would not be able to reach it for a day.

Rickety, seven or eight people crowded into the cramped carriage, unable to move, and their legs and feet were sore. I got out of the carriage and stretched my waist, which was extremely comfortable. Looking back inadvertently, the horse was looking at me, spewing white gas from his mouth and nose, frequently, and a little tired. There were some sweat stains between the hair, I think it must have been winter at that time, the countryside was very poor at that time, and most of the weddings were done in winter, and the rest of the things could be put in the New Year.

I felt very generous at that time, and forgave Zao Hongma for being rude to me before. After lunch, I offered to feed the horses, probably sympathy overriding fear.

Grabbing a handful of grass, he raised it to the horse's mouth, watching the guillotine-like teeth open and close, and to be honest, a little scared. When the horse was about to eat at hand, he hurriedly let go, and the horse had already rolled the rest of the grass into his mouth, and licked my hand, which was so warm that I seemed to have forgotten to be afraid.

Then I grabbed the grass and put it to its mouth, and looked into its eyes, there was a very small person in the eyes, and I couldn't see who it was, but I stubbornly insisted, and there were tears in the corners of the horse's eyes. Touching its fur, I inexplicably remembered the experience of washing the horse.

Until now, I still don't know if the horse will cry. There is no grassland in Jinnan, and the story of me and the horse is nothing more.

2019/3/24